


Avenge the 'Verse

by 27dragons



Series: imaginetonyandbucky fills [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefly Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7170782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally a prompt fill for the imaginetonyandbucky blog, for this prompt: Firefly au: Steve is captain, Nat is #2, Tony mechanic, Bruce doc, JARVIS runs ship, Clint pilot when evasive flying needed, Thor muscle, Loki Companion. Rescue injured Bucky from Reavers. Tony builds arm, flirt, fall in love and bunk together :) -kaci1ynn</p><p>Note about the Violence warning: If you know the Firefly series, you know nothing involving Reavers is going to be pretty. Once it's past that, though, there's nothing graphic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avenge the 'Verse

**Author's Note:**

> “Simplified Mandarin” vocabulary courtesy of the [Firefly Wikia](http://firefly.wikia.com/wiki/Dictionary).

Tony found Steve in the mess, arguing with Loki.

“–when we get paid for this job, and not one bit sooner,” Steve was saying. His jaw had that stubborn jut to it that suggested they’d been at this a while.

Loki stood smoothly, leaning to place both palms flat on the table as he met Steve’s glare with icy bottle-green eyes. “Very well, Captain. But if I am unable to ply my trade soon, then I will be forced to consider you in breach of contract, and I shall take myself – and my brother, whose strong arm you wrongly seem to value over my wit and sophistication – and find another berth.” He swept out of the mess, nose high, not deigning to notice Tony.

Steve held his position for several heartbeats after Loki had left, then slumped back into his chair with a tired sigh, shoving a hand through his short-cropped hair.

Tony grinned and dropped into the opposite seat. “Dunno why you don’t just dump His Highness out the airlock.”

“Hafta wait ‘til we’re near a bigger gravity well than  _Avenger_ ,” Steve said. “Otherwise he’d just cling to the hull and mess with Clint’s fuel calculations.”

Tony laughed, and was rewarded with a small answering smile from Steve. “I got the grav thrust patched together,” Tony reported, “but I can’t fix the secondary thermal exhaust until we’re in atmo.”

Steve frowned thoughtfully. “If we don’t have secondary thermal, where are you shunting the heat from the–”

“Captain.” Clint’s voice was tight, even over the intercom. “Need you on the bridge, right now.”

“ _Lao tien fu_ , what now?” Steve groaned, dragging himself to his feet. Tony followed, even though he hadn’t been invited. Anything that made Clint sound so tense was going to be more work for Tony, sooner or later.

“What’ve we got?” Steve asked as he came up behind Clint’s pilot chair.

Clint pointed at a screen. “Spotted this blip, just inside radar range. Couple of ships. Transport class, maybe, or maybe mid-range military surplus. Not big enough for a cruiser. Looks to me like one of them’s chasing the other.”

Steve frowned at the screen. “Pirates?”

“Probably,” Clint said, “but I don’t like it. We’re in a pretty dark corridor; pirates usually lurk a little closer to the standard shipping lanes.”

The pirate’s ship looked… off. Tony rubbed uneasily at the scar on his chest. “Clint, angle the radar array another… twelve degrees Rimward and bounce its feed into the imaging array.”

Clint slapped at the console, making adjustments.

“What are you doing, Tony?” Steve asked.

“It’ll leach all the color but get us another couple of levels of magnification on the image,” Tony said. “I have a bad feeling about that ship.” He tapped at the short-range scanner’s controls and the screen flickered and then reformed, grainy with radar noise but at least three times closer.

“ _Ai yah tien ah_ ,” Clint cursed. “That’s not pirates, it’s Reavers.”

Steve’s expression hardened. “Can we catch up before the Reavers lock onto their prey?”

“No,” Clint said. “Not unless that transport has some kind of trick up its sleeve to boost speed beyond standard.”

“How long?”

Clint rubbed at his neck, calculating relative velocities in his head the way that he did, a trick that amazed Tony every time, despite Tony’s certified genius. “It’ll be close. I can do some questionable things to the navcomp and get us there in three hours, but that’s going to give the Reavers a good hour’s head start.”

Steve stared at the screen for another long minute, then nodded. “Maybe it’ll be enough,” he said. “If they’ve got a secure hold to hide in and some fighters. Do what you can to close the gap, and try to hail the other ship, let ‘em know we’re coming to help. I’ll fill in the others, let 'em know what’s going down. Tony?”

“There’s a couple of things I can do to boost our speed, but we’ll pay for it in fuel consumption.”

“Do it. And then…”

Tony knew that look. “Special weapons hold?”

“Special weapons hold,” Steve agreed. “I’ll send Natasha down to help you get everyone geared up. This ain’t gonna be pretty.”

***

They’d closed the gap to half an hour, but what Reavers could do to a ship in half an hour beggared belief. Tony had seen plenty of bodies in his day, but he was having a harder time not throwing up with every freshly-dead victim he saw as they picked their way through the entry 'lock.

“Captain,” Thor said, hand to his commset. “My brother says scans of the ship register lifesigns about evenly split between the cargo hold and the mess, and a smaller presence – only one or two individuals – at the bridge.”

Steve and Natasha traded looks; they’d encountered Reavers before, though neither of them would speak of it often. “Right,” Steve said. “Thor, you and I will take the hold. Natasha, Clint, and Tony will clear the mess, and then–”

“What about the bridge?” Tony said.

“The Reavers are probably ripping out the pilot’s locks so they can take the ship with them. We can leave them for last.” Steve’s tone brooked no argument.

Tony argued anyway. “Look, Cap, a Shu Fu class ship like this has a bridge hatch that’s damn near a blast door. If the pilot sealed it, they might still be trying to break through. Let me clear it and then double back to help Nat and Clint.”

Natasha stepped in before Steve could respond. “Fine with me, Captain. It’ll keep them from coming up behind us.”

Steve gave her a look that meant they’d be fighting about it later, but nodded shortly. “Fine. Be careful. Everyone keep your comms open. Shoot to kill. We’re not taking any prisoners.”

That was terrifying – Steve  _never_  shot to kill – but after what they’d seen in the airlock, Tony couldn’t disagree. He checked his modified weapons charges for the fourth or fifth time, then peeled off down the hallway toward the bridge.

He heard them before he saw them, an unholy howling that shivered down Tony’s spine.

The bridge hatch had been pried open a couple of inches. A pair of Reavers were crowding each other at the opening, pushing and snarling at each other, even as they attempted to yank something through. With each yank, the floor and bulkhead got a fresh spatter of dark red blood, and the shrieking spiked.

Tony stopped in his tracks, convulsively swallowing his bile. He gritted his teeth and shot the bigger Reaver in the back. The other spun around, even in its madness capable of recognizing a threat. Tony backed away, shaking his electrified power glove in useless attempt to get it to recharge faster. By the time it discharged, the Reaver was close enough for Tony to smell its rancid breath and see the festering, untreated wounds on its skin.

He didn’t try to hold it back this time when his gorge rose. The spew couldn’t make the dead Reaver look or smell any worse. Tony leaned on the wall and panted for breath for a couple of heartbeats, then forced himself upright and staggered toward the bridge.

The pilot was collapsed on the floor, just out of Tony’s reach. His arm had been utterly savaged – were those  _teeth marks_  in the pale skin? – but Tony could see his chest rising and falling, so he was still alive. Tony tapped the comm in his ear. “Bruce, warm up the medbay. I’ve got a survivor, and it’s not pretty. We’ll bring him along when we’re done here.”

Then he took a deep breath, reminded himself that his crewmates – his  _friends_  – needed him, and made himself head for the mess to back up Clint and Natasha.

***

They were carrying the pilot through the airlock when he came awake again all at once, thrashing and shouting, fighting Thor’s hold. “Gorram Reavers,” he spat, kicking and twisting, “you won’t have me! You won’t!”

Thor was the strongest man Tony had ever met, but even he was having trouble with the pilot’s flailing. Without thinking about it, Tony turned around, slipping past the captain’s bulk to catch the pilot’s swinging fist in both hands. “ _Hey_ ,” he said sharply, and then again more gently. “Hey, we’re not Reavers,  _shi yan_. They’re gone, they’re dead.”

The pilot stopped moving, wide grey eyes locking onto Tony with desperation. “You killed 'em,” he rasped.

“We did,” Tony said. “The Captain and–”

“ _You_ ,” the pilot said, urgent. He grabbed onto Tony’s wrist and held it tightly. “ _You_  did.”

Tony took a breath. “Yeah,” he agreed. “The ones who were– yeah.”

“What about the rest of 'em?” the pilot asked warily. “The crew, the passengers?”

Tony looked up, but Thor’s broad features were tight with sorrow. “No,” Tony said. “You’re the only one who made it. I’m sorry.”

The pilot’s jaw clenched and he closed his eyes, but he didn’t release Tony’s wrist.

The airlock door cycled open to reveal Bruce waiting with a stretcher, all tousled hair and nervous energy. “Captain?”

Steve clapped Bruce on the shoulder. “Mostly minor,” he reported. “Clint’s got a nasty gash that’ll need stitching, and there’s some other patchwork to do, but we need to get this man stabilized first.”

“I can see that. Thor, put him down here and we’ll get him to the infirmary.”

Tony stepped back to make space for Bruce, but the pilot’s hand tightened convulsively on Tony’s wrist. “Don’t go,” he whispered.

“I’m not,” Tony started, but the pilot tugged on his arm.

“Please,” he begged. “Don’t leave me.”

Those wide grey eyes were back on Tony’s, and Tony found he could do nothing but agree.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’m right here, I’ll be right here with you.” He put his other hand over the pilot’s for reassurance and worked on navigating the narrow hatches without having to let go.

They stumbled into the infirmary and carefully moved the pilot to the surgery table. Bruce tucked the hypospray nozzle up under the pilot’s ear and pulled the trigger. The pilot jerked in surprise and a whimper slipped out of his throat.

“Just a sedative,” Tony soothed. “Just so the doc can stitch you up. I’ll be with you the whole time.” The pilot was still looking a little wild around the eyes so Tony tried on his best charming smile. “Gonna be the first thing you see when you wake up, I promise. What’s your name,  _bao bei_?”

The pilot’s lips curved in a faint smile at the flirtation, even as his eyelids drooped with the sedative’s effects. “Bucky,” he whispered. “M'name’s…” His hand fell limp.

Bruce was already cutting the man’s – Bucky’s – shirt off the ravaged arm. He hissed as the cloth finally pulled free, and cursed under his breath.

Tony dragged his gaze away from the sweep of Bucky’s eyelashes. “What? Is it that bad?”

“No, I mean yes, it’s that bad. I’m gonna have to take the arm. But that’s not… Look.” Bruce swiped impatiently at the blood painting Bucky’s skin and pointed at a dark curl on his shoulder, the remnant of a tattoo. The rest of it had been destroyed by the Reavers’ nails and teeth. “He’s an indenture.”

“ _Ai yah tien ah_ ,” Tony cursed. “No chance it’s decorative?”

Bruce shook his head. “No, I’ve seen this one before. Someone owns this man. We’ll have to report it when we’re back in hailing distance of civilization.”

“No,” Tony said firmly. What this man had endured had to be enough to pay off any debt – karmically, if not in the eyes of the law. “No, that’s not happening.”

Bruce snorted. “What else can we do?”

“I don’t know.” Tony sighed and rubbed at his forehead, thoughts spinning as he watched Bruce work.  "I think… I’m gonna go talk to Cap. Call me if he starts to come around. I promised I’d be here.“

***

Bucky was warm, for a wonder, in a way he hadn’t been for any of his years aboard the _Hydra_. It’d gotten to where he honestly wasn’t sure he’d remembered what warm felt like, but here he was, warm and rested and lying on something soft, and it was so good, he thought about letting himself drift back off again.

But then the sharp scent of antiseptic curled into his nostrils and brought him awake with a jerk. Gruesome memory flooded his veins with adrenaline and he lurched up, scrambling back against the wall and swinging wildly.

“Hey, hey,  _bao bei_ , relax, c'mon, it’s okay, you’re safe!” The man was blocking Bucky’s path, hands spread wide to show them empty. He was handsome, with tanned skin and wide, worried eyes, and immaculately-trimmed facial hair that contrasted wildly with his disheveled dark hair and the smudge of something – oil or dirt – on his forehead. “There you go,” he said as Bucky stilled, “that’s right, you’re okay.”

“You. You’re the one who saved me,” Bucky rasped dumbly.

“Well, we’re a team,” the man said, “couldn’t have done it without the rest of the crew, but yeah, I’m the one who found you first.” He offered a hand. “I’m Tony.”

Bucky took Tony’s hand tentatively. “Thank you, Mr. Tony.”

“Just Tony’s fine,” he said, and his smile was friendly and inviting in a way Bucky hadn’t seen for far too long. “How’s the arm?”

“The arm–” Bucky looked down and froze at the empty space where his left arm should have been, nothing, just a clean, tightly-wrapped bandage around a stump. “Oh, god, my arm, what happ–” Horrific memory exploded in his brain. “Oh  _god_.”

“I know, I know,” Tony said swiftly, and his hand was curled around Bucky’s again, clasping it tight, almost to the point of pain, but Bucky was grateful for the point of focus. “Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay. There was an infection, we had to take it, but the doc says it’s clean now. No, don’t look, don’t– Hey,  _bao bei_ , look at me, okay, just look at– That’s right, that’s good.” His voice was soft but firm, and Bucky clung to the sound of it, and the friendly crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and the grip of his hand.

When he could breathe again, Bucky coughed out a bitter laugh. “Pierce was gonna sell me to Red Star Medical after this run,” he answered Tony’s quirked eyebrows. “For experiments an’ the like. Guess he won’t get as many credits for me now that I’m missin’ a chunk.”

Tony looked faintly ill, though not surprised. “ _Choo fay wuh sih leh_  are you going back to that,” he said fiercely.

Bucky grimaced. “Nothin’ to be done,” he said. “I’m property, plain an’ simple.”

“But that tattoo’s gone. No one has to know.”

Bucky snorted. “You think Hydra would be that easy to get past? There’s half a pint of nanites in my bloodstream. As soon as I set foot on a rock with a Hydra shop, all the bells and whistles in the world are gonna start screamin’.”

“Gotta chip in your spine, too,” said a new voice, and Bucky jerked his head up to see a blond man standing in the doorway to the medbay, frowning, arms folded across an impressively broad chest. “Doc did a scan while you were under.”

Tony didn’t even turn around. “How long you been there, Cap?”

“Long enough.” The man stepped up behind Tony and unfolded his arms to reach out a hand to Bucky. “Steve Rogers,” he introduced himself. “Captain of the  _Avenger_.” He eyed Tony sidelong and his stern expression relaxed into something fond and exasperated. “At least in theory.”

“James Barnes,” Bucky said. The captain’s handshake was firm, and he didn’t play power games with it.

“Aw, you told me it was Bucky, before,” Tony said, pouting. “Did you lie to me?”

Bucky felt his neck and cheeks warm. “My friends always called me Bucky,” he admitted. “Haven’t used it for a while, but I guess I liked the look of you.”

Tony beamed, pleased, and Bucky tried not to think about how much he liked that smile. _Don’t get attached,_  he reminded himself sternly.  _You’re only here until they figure out where to drop you off._

“What are you doing in here, anyway?” Rogers was asking Tony. “I’m fair certain you had a list of jobs to do longer'n my leg, none of which was flirting with our guest.”

“Can you blame me? Look at him, he’s gorgeous!” Tony winked at Bucky, unabashed. “Besides, we’ve been in space so long, even Loki is starting to look good.”

Rogers rolled his eyes. “Loki is a  _registered Companion_ ,” he said, sounding like a man who was expecting to be ignored.

“And never has my opinion of the Companion’s Guild been lower,” Tony said. “But I  _do_ have a lot of work to do if we’re going to arrange for Mr. Barnes’ emancipation.”

“And to keep my ship working,” Rogers tacked on.

“Yes, Cap, and to keep us flying,” Tony agreed dismissively. He caught up Bucky’s hand and bowed over it, elegant and graceful. “Now that I have fulfilled my promise, I hope you will excuse me to my duty. And hey, when Bruce clears you to leave medical, there’s room in my bunk.” He brushed his lips over Bucky’s knuckles and winked again. He swept out of the medbay before Bucky could do more than blink in bewilderment.

Rogers sighed, lips quirking again. “Well, that’s Tony,” he said. “He’s literally a genius, but he can take some getting used to. If he gets too bothersome, just speak up. Bruce or me’ll get him to step it back.”

Bucky’s skin still prickled with the feeling of Tony’s mustache, and it took an act of will not to raise his hand to rub it against his own lips. “I don’t mind,” he said. He didn’t miss the sharp, amused glance that Rogers shot his way, but he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes from the hatch Tony had disappeared through, either.

***

“Come on, come on!” Tony was all but dragging Bucky through the narrow halls of the  _Avenger_. Bucky had been merely curious when they’d left behind the medbay and common area, heading for the crew’s quarters, but Tony hadn’t slowed down at all, and now they were past all the living spaces, heading deeper into the ship’s belly.

Tony’s excitement was infectious, though, and Bucky followed willingly. It wasn’t until he realized that Tony was making for the engine room that he finally balked. “Are you sure I’m allowed?” Bucky asked.

Tony glanced over his shoulder with a bright grin, punching in the lock code without looking at the keypad. “Hey, I’m the ship’s mechanic,” he said. “The engine room is my territory, so if I say you’re allowed, you’re allowed.”

Bucky was pretty sure that wasn’t how it was supposed to work, but from what he’d seen of the crew’s interactions over the last few days, Captain Rogers generally tolerated Tony’s eccentricities with an air of fond resignation. He followed Tony into the engine room.

The engine itself dominated the room, of course, but it ran surprisingly quiet and clean. A dog-sized robot was industriously assembling a circuit board at the row of workbenches along one wall. The tables displayed an impressive array of tools and projects, most of which didn’t even seem to be engine parts. One was definitely a half-assembled laser pistol, and another looked like a Cortex directory with the cover removed and half the wiring pulled out.

Bucky didn’t have time to examine anything closely, though, because Tony was still moving. “JARVIS, open my door,” he called.

Behind the engine, a panel slid open. JARVIS – the ship’s computer intelligence that the crew seemed to treat like a butler – said, “Preliminary testing reveals a 78% chance of success.”

“Yeah, we’ll get you some better readings to work with in just a few,” Tony said distractedly, ducking and twisting around the engine, making his way to the door. He turned back to Bucky, offering a hand. “Sorry it’s such an awkward spot, but I really hate being disturbed when I’m working.”

Bucky didn’t really need Tony’s steadying hand to get around the jutting bits of the engine, but he took it just the same. “What is all this?” he asked.

“I like to tinker in my downtime,” Tony said with a shrug. “Come on!” He gestured grandly to usher Bucky through the panel and into what looked like a refitted storeroom. It was even brighter and cleaner than the engine room. One wall was fitted with three monitors, and the workbench here was stocked with much more high-tech equipment than Bucky had seen anywhere else on the ship.

“What  _is_  this?” he asked wonderingly.

Tony’s grin turned manic, and he pulled a dropcloth off a table in the corner with a showman’s flourish. Revealed was… an… arm? A metal arm, fully articulated, beautiful in its lines and weirdly lifelike.

Tony was looking at Bucky with a strange mix of pride and apprehension.

“Is that–” Bucky started, and then bit off the rest, because there was no way such a gorgeous – and expensive – thing could possibly be for  _him_.

“It’s not just an arm,” Tony said quickly. “I mean, it is. Obviously. But it’s got– There’s a static field in the neural relay that will, um–”

Tony, Bucky realized suddenly, was  _nervous_. “Wait, slow down,” he said. “Give it to me in dummy pilot terms.”

Tony laughed. “Never met a dumb pilot,” he said. “But right, okay, simpler, I can– Right. So, uh, the arm. For you. Obviously. And once JARVIS and I get it properly calibrated, it should be able to block the signal from the chip in your spine. Obviously it’s not ideal, but until we can get you to a surgeon – Bruce is great for day-to-day trauma, but this is really specialized stuff, you know? I’ve got some calls out, but it’ll–”

“Whoa, wait, hold on.” A bloom of pain was forming behind Bucky’s eyes. “Are you  _shiang jing ping_? I can’t afford a surgeon! Or an arm! Not even if you count whatever reward fee you’d get for turning me in!”

Tony look offended. “Turning you  _in_? Weren’t you listening? The whole point here is to get you to fly under the radar so you can be free!” His mouth twisted. “The nanites are actually easier to deal with; Bruce is making excellent progress dealing with the ones he’s got in the medbay. Hope you don’t mind; you were giving out free blood samples when he was patching you up.”

Bucky stared at him. “You… want me to be free.”

“Well, duh.”

“Why?” Tony looked impossibly hurt at that, and Bucky backtracked. “I mean, you guys don’t even know me! For all you know, I coulda been a criminal indenture!”

Tony shrugged. “Cap’s got a thing about slavery, and what you went through was enough to wipe any slate clean. And I haven’t had a good challenge in  _months_. I’d do it just for the fun of it, I swear.” The grin was back, and he fluttered his eyelashes at Bucky ridiculously. “Plus, I don’t know if you know this or not, but you’re  _super_  hot,  _bao bei_. You want to pay me back, you can let me take you on a date.”

Bucky snorted. “We’re on a ship in deep space,” he pointed out. “What kind of date do you think is going to impress me out here?” Not that he wasn’t already impressed, but he knew better than to give in  _too_  easily.

Tony grinned up at him. “All you have to do to find out is say yes.”

Bucky huffed a sigh that he was pretty sure Tony knew was purely for show. “Okay, fine, you win. Yes.”

Tony’s face lit up, and Bucky’s stomach suddenly produced a whole meadow’s worth of butterflies. “To the arm, too?” Tony wheedled, and Bucky gave in to the laughter building in his chest.

“Yeah,  _gao guhn_ , to the arm, too. C'mon and tell me what I gotta do to make it work.”

***

Tony walked up to the bar and leaned over to examine the  _sake_  selection, which coincidentally let him use the bar’s mirror to watch the street.

It wasn’t long before he saw what he was looking for: the cop who strolled past was the same one they’d passed outside the food market, and again as they were going into the parts and repair shop. Tony ground his teeth together – he knew damn well his tech hadn’t failed. It had been working for  _months_  without incident.

The smokescreen in Bucky’s arm had held even on a Core planet, where there were scans at every corner, and this podunk moon was barely more civilized than a Rim settlement. What had changed? It didn’t take Tony’s genius to do that math: Hydra’s presence at the Core wasn’t strong, but they rivaled Blue Sun for controlling colonies where the Alliance wasn’t quite so entrenched. Someone had ratted on them.

Tony slapped down his credits with a bit more force than necessary and took the bottle back to their table. “We’re definitely being tailed,” he muttered. “Fifty cred says Loki sold us out.”

“Worry about placing the blame later,” Natasha said firmly. “How are we going to get out?”

Bucky sighed and tossed back his  _sake_. “You give me up.”

“No,” Tony said.

Bucky smiled at him sadly. “Hey, it’s been a good run. We made some memories to keep us warm at night. Best to just let it go at that,  _gao guhn_. You can’t drag the whole gorram crew into danger just for me.” He reached for Tony’s hand.

Tony snatched it back, glaring. “Fuck that, if you think I’m going to let you go  _now_ , after everything–”

“Tony’s right,” Steve said. “Not ‘cause you two are bunking down, but because you’re one of us, now. We’re not leaving without you.”

“Besides,” Clint chipped in, “givin’ you over would be letting them  _win_ , and we can’t have that.”

Tony could have cheered, but Bucky’s sad expression turned mulish. “An’ how do you propose we do that?”

“Anyone’s got any ideas,” Natasha said, “now’s the time.” She nodded toward the door just as the cop came through it.

Tony’s mind raced as the cop squinted through the dim, smoky room and made straight for their table. “Gentlemen, ma'am,” the cop said. He sounded polite enough, but across the room, Tony saw three more cops slip in through the side door, and there were doubtless more outside. They were boxed in.

“Officer,” Steve returned. “Somethin’ we can do for you?”

“I expect so,” the cop said. “I’ve got word you folks are in possession of someone else’s property. An indentured man, name of Barnes.”

Bucky stiffened, but didn’t react otherwise, keeping his head down over his  _sake_  cup. Tony squeezed his knee.

“Lotta men named Barnes in the 'verse,” Steve pointed out reasonably. “Ain’t no one on my crew with a mark.”

The cop produced a paper and held it up. The photo of Bucky was old but recognizable, and the text description that scrolled under it was correct, right down to the missing arm. It was dated three days ago – coincidentally, Tony noted, the same date as Loki’s last off-ship appointment.

Tony ground his teeth together, but since the information wasn’t current, then maybe, just  _maybe_  they had a chance. But it would mean giving up the cover he’d worked so hard to build. Tony glanced sidelong at the lover – the  _partner_  – he’d all but given up on finding, and knew he’d sacrifice anything to keep Bucky safe.

Under the table, Tony slipped his comm out of his pocket and shot a 'wave to the  _Avenger_ to rouse JARVIS.  _'Plan 12-J,’_  he sent.  _'Two days ago. ASAP. And don’t let Loki leave his room until we’re back.’_

“Now, I know it’s hard to spot an indenture without a mark,” the cop was saying, pretending to be rational and fair, “so if you just turn him over to us now, we won’t need to bring you all down to the station for harboring a fugitive.”

Steve’s voice turned hard. “Are you threatening to arrest us, officer?”

“Gosh,” Clint drawled, “I ain’t never been arrested before,” then grunted as Natasha elbowed him.

Bucky stirred, ignoring Tony’s frantic squeeze of his knee. “Don’t,” he told Clint, then looked up at the cop. “I’m Barnes.”

“Buck–” Steve protested.

 _Come on come on come on,_  Tony silently urged JARVIS.

“Mr. Barnes,” the cop said gravely, “you are bound by law to–”

Tony’s comm  _ping_ ed, and he heaved a silent sigh of relief. “Excuse me,” he interrupted. “But I think you’ll find, if you look up Mr. Barnes’ ident, that your information is a bit out of date.”

“I’m sorry?” the cop said. The others were staring at him, too.

Tony ignored them, and offered the cop his comm. “Go on, look him up,” he said.

The cop ignored Tony’s comm and whipped his own standard-issue unit out of his belt. He punched in the ID forcefully, annoyance plain on his face. “Here we are,” he growled as the screen filled with text. “James Barnes, native of Splendor in the Georgia system, voluntary indenture with five years left to serve, currently bound to…” He stuttered and went silent.

“Currently bound to Anthony E. Stark of StarkCorp,” Tony finished in his best aristocratic tone. He slipped his ident card from his inside breast pocket and offered it to the cop with two disdainful fingers. “Please, verify my identity.”

He didn’t look at the crew, unwilling to see their expressions. He kept his face like stone as the cop fed his card into the comm and ran it. He knew when the verification was done, because the man’s face went pasty white.

“I… Mr. Stark, I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

Tony plucked the card from the cop’s unresisting fingers and stood, slowly and calmly tucking it back into his pocket. “Now, if you have concluded your business,” he said, icy, “I believe we shall be about ours.” He brushed past the cop and headed for the door. He didn’t look back. The scion of StarkCorp had no need to look back; it was inconceivable that his employees might fail to follow his orders, or that his friends might abandon him.

The scraping of chairs behind him still made his knees weak with relief.

***

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, much later. The explanations to the crew and dealing with Loki had taken a while. Tony already missed being just one of the crew, wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the sidelong glances and their suddenly cautious way of speaking, and he wasn’t sure they’d ever get back to normal. But it was worth it, it  _was_ , for Bucky to go free, to not have to worry about Hydra reclaiming him.

Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the side of their bunk, pulling off his boots, and blinked at Tony. “You’re sorry,” he repeated. “For saving me?”

“For not telling you,” Tony said. He leaned against the wall and looked down, fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. “I understand if you’re– if you don’t want me to stay. I can always bunk down in the engine room. I’ve done it before, used to do it all the time–”

“I want you to stay,  _gao guhn_. I’m just… it’s a lot to take in, that the man I fell in love with is practically  _royalty_.”

“Not royalty,” Tony protested automatically. “And I’m still me, I swear, I’m still just Tony the mechanic under it all, it’s just–” He paused. “Wait. Did you say 'fell in love with’?” he asked belatedly.

“Yeah, Tony, I did.” Bucky smiled and reached out his hand.

Automatically, Tony took it, let himself be drawn in until he stood between Bucky’s knees. “I love you, too,” he said, inwardly wincing at how lame and banal it sounded.

Bucky didn’t seem to mind, though. His smile grew, and he stretched up to claim a kiss. “I do have to ask why you didn’t just do that from the beginning,” Bucky asked. “I mean, it seems like it would’ve been a lot less work than building me a whole arm and destroying the nanites an’ all. An’ if you’d done it earlier, you could'a kept the secret from everyone else. Or did you think I’d squeal?”

“No! I just…” Tony grimaced. “I was hoping we could find a way to free you entirely. As it is, you’re still on the record as an indenture. I can make sure you don’t get any more bogus extensions, but those five years…” He shrugged. “I just, I didn’t want to own you,” he finished lamely.

Bucky slid his fingers into Tony’s hair, tugging him back down. “You already own my heart,” he breathed against Tony’s mouth. “Might as well have the rest.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I write Tony/Bucky shorts for the [imaginetonyandbucky](http://imaginetonyandbucky.tumblr.com) blog, and post/reblog my little multishipper heart out at [everyworldneedslove](http://everyworldneedslove.tumblr.com)!


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